


Thirteen Nights to Tell a Tale (and One to Run Away)

by Mayori



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Arabian Night, Gen, M/M, OMG Can't believe I am actually writing this, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayori/pseuds/Mayori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>!!Will be rewritten!!</p><p>A fill to the prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=14450551#t14450551</p><p>Bilbo is a famous author, whose friend: Gandalf wants him to write about Erebor, the City of the Dead. So, is there a better way to research the city than to visit it? No? Bilbo thought so too. Only when he sets a foot into Erebor, everything goes wrong, starting with that cursed perfume bottle. Landing onto the lap of a handsome king who is known to execute his husbands and wives, Bilbo tries hard to steer away from him, but the King's crush on him makes that hard to accomplish!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Zero

**Thirteen Days to Tell a Tale (and One to Run Away)**

**Warning:** Slash, AU where everybody’s human, and I am very rusty on folklore.

**Chapter One: Day Zero**

Bilbo Baggins of Bag End yawned. He was a rather unremarkable twenty eight years old fellow – a bit on the short side, but otherwise perfectly normal. He had short (always brushed!) brown curly hair, and brown eyes that could make you very disappointed with yourself if he squinted hard enough, and his nephew, Frodo often tried very hard to make sure his uncle rarely had any reason to squint.

“Uncle Bilbo,” Said Frodo, a worried expression on his face. “Are you alright? Why don’t you sleep? Your work won’t run away from you, you know!”

And that, my dear reader, is Frodo Baggins: The resident worrywart of Bag End. He is, as mentioned before, Bilbo’s nephew. Poor thing has been fussing over his uncle ever since both his parents and uncle got caught in that car accident. Bilbo survived, but his poor brother Drogo and his wife Primula didn’t. 

Bilbo smiled at his nephew, and waved off his concerns. “Nonsense, my boy! Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today, is what I say!”

Frodo sighed and shook his head while his uncle returned back to his book. “How about a pillow for your leg, then?”

Though he said that as a question, he was already plumping a pillow with his hands and pushing a footrest towards his uncle with his foot, and Bilbo sighed, but decided to humor his nephew.

Once the footrest was close enough, Frodo placed the pillow on it and his uncle grunted as he lifted his injured foot and placed it on the pillow. Frodo turned to leave, knowing that if he said anything other else, his uncle would just get cross with him, but then his uncle called out: “Frodo! Do make sure our bags are ready for tomorrow’s flight!”

Frodo stopped in a mid-step and groaned. He hated airplanes, but his uncle adored the flight, and after what happened to his parents six years ago, he really didn’t want to be alone in Bag End. Thus, sixteen years old Frodo Baggins dragged his feet out of his uncle study, who smirked at his nephew’s misery.

The man turned around in his chair, whistling an old song he doesn’t remember where he heard it, and facing the miniature globe sitting on his desk, he trailed with his finger the path the Helicopter would take.

From Hobbiton in The Shire to the ruins of Erebor, in The Lonely Mountain – The country of the dead.

Now why would Gandalf suggest such a place to be the setting of his book?

.

..

…

A figure, covered in a black cloak began to run, as the sound of bells rang through the grand capital of The Lonely Mountain, Erebor, and an expression of panic painting the face of the young man who quickened his pace, trying to put more distance between himself and his chasers.

Another figure, also wrapped in a black cloak, appeared in front of the young man. The panicked expression on the brown haired man disappears and a relieved smile appears on his face.

“Smaug!” He says happily, reaching out and hugging the figure of black. “Brother! I was worried; you weren’t there in our designed meeting place!”

A scaled arm wrapped around the shoulders of the youth protectively. “I am sorry Bilbo. I faced some trouble entering the city. That bastard king brought his jinn pets: Balin and Dwalin; They almost caught me.”

An enraged scream filled the capital, and both brothers jumped in surprise. Smaug’s arm tightened around Bilbo. “Come Bilbo, we must leave immediately. Thorin will not be too happy knowing his victim has run away.”

Bilbo nodded his head frantically, his brown curls bobbing up and down quickly, but even his thick mane of hair couldn’t hide his sad expression.

As both brothers began to run, the hood of Smaug fell off and showed a handsome human face that was also scaled near his eyes, mouth and forehead. His black hair seemed to shine silver under the gentle guidance of the moonlight.

“What ails you, brother?” He asked his younger brother, his pace quickening slightly and his brother – who was a good head shorter than he – was forced to run even faster. Bilbo’s eyes shifted to the ground, and he looked sadder than ever. 

“I grew up with Throin, Smaug. We both did. I don’t understand _how_ he could turn into that… _that murdering monster_!”

Smaug sighed, and while they were trained on the entrance of the city, they carried sadness in them as well. “Betrayal hurts a lot, Bilbo. And people change, whether we like it or not.” He turned and gave his younger brother a smile. “At any words, dearest, we are almost rid of his danger.”

Scarcely were those words out of his mouth than an arrow came and sank deeply into Bilbo’s leg. Because of their speed there was a little he could do to stop his brother from falling down the steep hill next to them. As his brother’s body rolled down the hill and when it finally settled, Smaug could see his brother’s face, eyes glazed and wide in shock and fear. 

Smaug’s fists clenched. He turned and faced the bastard who shot his brother down. A terrible taste filled his mouth as he was faced with the horrified expression of the two young men standing in front of him.

Ah, the irony. Bilbo escaped death from Thorin’s hand, yet he was shot to his death by the king’s nephews.

Another enraged scream filled the city, but this time it was from Smaug himself. And his body grew and grew, and more scales appeared on his body. His clothes ripped, and his hair fell off, until finally, his transformation stopped, and in the place of a man, a dragon stood.

Screams filled Erebor as men, women and children were either burnt alive or killed under the foot of the dragon.

…

..

.

“And this is the legend of how Erebor became the ruins it is today.” Bilbo finished the tale, taking a long breath from his pipe as the two teenagers stared at him.

“The younger brother’s name was Bilbo as well, Master Baggins?” Asked Samwise Gamgee, the son of Bilbo’s butler. Bilbo had known the boy since he was in his diapers and no matter how hard he tried to make the boy to call him ‘Uncle’ or ‘Bilbo’ the boy was as stubborn as his father. Sam was sitting next to his childhood friend, Frodo, who had a puzzled expression on his face as well.

Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but before he could answer, a loud, irritated voice filled the air. “Don’t go around bothering Master Baggins with your silly questions, Samwise!” Hamfast Gamgee gave his son a light slap on the head. Sam ducked and clutched his head, and Frodo patted his friend’s back sympathetically. Bilbo gave a short laugh.

“It’s okay, Hamfast; I don’t mind the children’s silly questions.” Hamfast grumbled a bit, but then told Bilbo that the Helicopter was ready. Bilbo sent a smile towards Hamfast, and the man returned it gratefully before leaving, but not without warning his son: “Don’t forget your manners in this trip, you hear Samwise? You be sure to be thankful to Master Baggins.”

Bilbo gave another contended laugh before he answered Samwise’s question. “Yes, Sam. The younger brother’s name was Bilbo as well. Or rather, I am called Bilbo as well.”

“Why would you say that, Uncle?” Asked Frodo curiously, unconsciously leaning toward Samwise, who blushed at the contact, to be closer to his uncle.

“Ah well, your great-grandfather – the Old Took, that is – was in love with this story, you see. Convinced I was the ‘reincarnation’ of this Bilbo, he was.” Bilbo took another long drag from his pipe before he stood up and wiped the dust from the back of his pants. “So, he begged mother to name me Bilbo, and since she could never say ‘no’ to grandfather, she agreed and I am stuck with this name.”

Frodo’s eyes widened, before a mischievous glint entered it. “What about me, uncle? Am I named after anybody? What about Sam? Is that why our names are so strange?”

Sam squawked at that, before he said: “My name’s perfectly normal, I’ll have you know!”

As the boys squabbled Bilbo began to walk with the assistance of the cane toward the back entrance of Bag End, where the Helicopter would be waiting. Let the boys think he left them behind.

Bilbo Baggins chuckled. “Teenagers.”


	2. The Perfume Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and the boys get sucked into a perfume bottle. Well, their conscious got sucked, more like.

#  Thirteen Nights to Tell a Tale

##  And one to Run Away! 

### Chapter Two: The Perfume Bottle

### 

By the time the Helicopter had landed, both Frodo and Sam looked sick. Bilbo however, munched on his apple with a rather contended feeling of fullness.

He was used to travelling in the air, but this was Sam’s first time on a Helicopter. Frodo, on the other hand, just had a weak constitution. Bilbo smirked; he could _hardly wait_ for the ride back home.

Bilbo waved goodbye at the Helicopter pilot, who waved back enthusiastically. He turned around when an excited voice called out his name. His smile widened and he ran quickly – or as quickly as his leg would allow him to, anyway – to hug his friend: Gandalf Grey.

Gandalf smiled as he patted his friend’s back affectionately. When they broke away from their embrace, Gandalf and Bilbo walked side by side towards the Safari Jeep waiting for them. The two boys stared at each other for a moment, confused by the sudden affectionate move. Bilbo Baggins wasn’t a man who’d share physical affection easily.

“Uncle?” Asked Frodo when they were all seated in the car. Gandalf began the engine, and Bilbo turned around to face them. “Yes?” He replied adjusting his grip on his backpack, so that it was now hanging off his shoulders. 

“Who is this man?” Frodo asked a bit shyly; worried he might have offended the old man driving the car. “Oh dear me,” Muttered Bilbo, scratching his forehead. “Where did my manners go?”

“Must have disappeared when your excitement came; you Tooks are well known for doing that.” Said Gandalf with a chuckle. Bilbo shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh, but his lips were stretched into a fond smile. “I’ll have you know, Gandalf, that I am a Baggins as much as I am a Took.”

Sam perked at the name. “Gandalf? _The_ Gandalf, Master Baggins? The man whose homemade fireworks used to be the talk of the Shire?”

Gandalf gave out a loud chortle of laughter. “Well, at least my fireworks are remembered!” As Sam began to gush about the fireworks and Gandalf’s fame, Bilbo spoke to his nephew. 

“Gandalf is your great-grandfather’s best friend. He used to come to the mansion a lot when your father moved out when I was ten, and always brought a huge amount of artifacts and fireworks himself. In fact, he’s responsible for more than half of the artifacts in the treasure room.”

Frodo’s eyes widened. “Does that mean he really fought the trained lions in Africa to get the eye of Shiva? And the cultists to get the Sting?”

Bilbo chuckled. He did tell Frodo about the ‘mysterious’ donator of the treasures and his adventures. “Well, he did that and more. Did I ever tell you about the time he stole the statue of the monkey from right under….”

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

King Thorin Oakenshield is a good man. He is a good ruler; fair and just, he never allowed his own prejudices rule his judgment, and people sung praises of him in the streets every day. 

He was rather young when he took over his grandfather’s throne –his father disappearing soon after his grandfather’s death caused that– and as such, his decision to take a bride after many years of faithfully serving his people, sent a wave of excitement throughout his Kingdom. Every father puffed their chest in pride and presented each one of their children to the King, yet only one caught his eye: Lilith.

Lilith was every man’s dream. Dark haired, curvy and did not possess even a little amount of common sense. That is, she wasn’t his type, but her eyes were so alike the eyes of his forbidden love that he could not bring himself not to feel attracted to her. Wide and perfectly round brown eyes; Beautiful, beautiful eyes.

And as such, Thorin and Lilith were wed. It was an awkward marriage at the beginning, seeing how the king had already given his heart to another, but grew into a happy –if loveless – marriage. The King had even begun to love her a bit when his sister informed him of his wife’s trickery.

Princess Dis’s face was flushed until her ear in anger, her eyes narrowed and her mouth filled with anger, barely contained. Dis’s distaste for Lilith was well known all over the kingdom; having preferred her brother to marry his love, rather than this brainless bitch, but her brother ignored her advice and went along with the marriage.

Seized with a feeling of disbelief, the king left his throne to see if his sister’s words were true – not that he thought she’d lie at him, obviously, but his heart screamed that such a thing could not be. 

It was with shock that he opened his wife’s quarters, only to find her being pleasured by the castle’s _cook_ , of all people.

When a broken question of _why_ escaped his mouth, his wife gave him an answer that destroyed whatever illusion he had created around himself to love the woman. 

“You have your Harem, why can’t I have one, too?”

Seized with a feeling of righteous fury, Thorin pulled his sword and beheaded both Lilith and the cook, thus ending their lives. For Thorin’s harem had been empty since his marriage, a proof of devotion towards his wife, yet here she had shown her disregard for their sacred marriage vows, and his heart that once glowed like gold became as hard as one.

The madness of the Gold Sickness had begun then, as he called his vizer: Smaug, inside the room to clean the bodies, and to bring him an unwedded virgin tomorrow night.

The day after his marriage night, Thorin killed the woman he never touched. And the day after, he killed the man that was brought to him. Thus, the Massacre of the Virgins began. For if the king’s wife, who had been praised to be the kindest of all queens, had betrayed him, surely the rest would be the same. Better to kill them before they betray him.

The songs that praised the king turned into wails of misery, fathers leading their family out of the country in the dead of the night, fear coursing through their veins for their children’s life and happiness. Of course, Smaug had attempted to stop this madness, yet his own life (and more importantly, his family’s) life would be placed into dangers 

It was when all of the virgins of Erebor had either run away or married or killed that _he_ came. 

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Smaug had been sitting in his chair, staring at the huge barrel of beer he had placed in his room. Today would be his last day alive, for he could not produce any unwed virgins. He placed his hands on his temples, rubbing them slowly, a sigh escaping his mouth. 

The room was filled with a sense of finality and resignation and sadness. For while Smaug hated the idea of dying, he loathed the idea of leaving his younger brother alone even more. There was a saying in Erebor: Think of the Gold, and it shall Appear; it meant that if you thought about something hard enough (as a person might think of gold often), it will appear in front of you. Smaug, who had been too thinking about his younger brother, was very surprised when a pair of gentle arms wrapped around his neck from behind. When he peered behind him, his eyes widened as he spotted his younger brother, Bilbo, hugging him with a gentle smile on his face.

A few steps behind them was King Thorin who was observing them with cold, mad eyes. He nodded towards Smaug in a way the vizer knew all too well. His eyes widened in shock, and he unconsciously shook his head in denial. His hands rose and held onto his brother’s body protectively. He opened his mouth, and, already he could feel his Gift waking in his blood, spoke words that were laced with power and heat:

“NO!”

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Bilbo closed his notebook and turned around to see Sam, Frodo and Gandalf sitting on floor behind his writing table. Gandalf had a smile on his face, but both Frodo and Sam looked rather guilty. Well, Sam looked guilty, but Frodo seemed to be a bit pleased with himself, as well.

“Well?” He asked, his voice turning into a drawl without meaning to. He often did that when his translating has been interrupted, especially one as interesting as the original version of the fairytale he grew up with. 

“Well, it seems to me, my boy that your boys had annoyed the all of the archeologists in one day,” Gandalf said, his smile turning into a grin, his eyebrows going up and down ridiculously made up a rather funny image. 

Bilbo wasn’t as amused as Gandalf was, unfortunately. He raised an eyebrow: “All of them?”

Gandalf nodded solemnly. “At once, apparently. Even _I_ have never managed to do that.”

Sam perked at the fact he had done something Gandlaf hadn’t, and Frodo looked even more pleased. Bilbo turned and glared at him, and they instantly lowered their heads in fear.

Bilbo sighed then. “I am sorry Gandalf, I will make sure they never-“

“Sorry? Sorry? For what? Do you mean you’re sorry the boys annoyed the archeologists? Do you mean you are sorry that I am happy they did? Or do you mean you’re sorry, and that they’ll never do it again? Or did you apologize to destroy the pleasure because of your boys’ actions? Actions, may I tell you _I_ have always wished to do.”

Bilbo tried to look displeased, to frown, but he couldn’t help his smile. “I hate it when you do that. But alright, I will make sure they do that again.”

Gandalf laughed loudly before he stood up slowly, and if he was any other man, Bilbo would swear by his mother’s glory box that the man was _skipping_ out of the tent they had placed in the dig site.

“So what _did_ you two do?”

Frodo grinned, and Sam rubbed his hands together while he broke into sweat, his eyes everywhere but on Bilbo. Frodo tried to speak, but suddenly found Sam’s hand on his mouth.

“You won’t tell, father, would you Master Baggins?”

Bilbo sighed. He did promised Hamfast to tell his if his son misbehaved but this is a chance… 

“Only if you truthfully tell me what you did _and_ call me Uncle Bilbo. No more ‘Master Baggins’ nonsense. Understood?”

Sam looked horrified, but nodded slowly, deciding that whatever he called Bilbo would not compare to his father’s punishment back home.

When Sam removed his hand, Frodo grinned and said: “We nicked this from the archeologists, and they thought we broke it!”

Frodo thrust his hand into Sam’s pocket, who yelped, and pulled out a small perfume bottle.

“You _stole?_ How could you do such a-!”

But Sam quickly intervened. “Well, _they_ were about to break it; they weren’t handling it correctly, so we took it from them before they could break it. And we asked Mr. Gandalf too, Master – I mean Uncle Bilbo.”

Bilbo frowned a bit, staring at the old perfume bottle. It had intricate designs made of clay all over the glass, and had some cracks across the glass, but otherwise it wasn’t dirty. It was very clean, and almost _shining_ , as impossible as that sounded.

“Well, if you’re going to keep it, you might as well wash it before you store it away.”

The boys looked rather happy at that, and Frodo began to open it, or at least try to. When he couldn’t he handed it over to Sam, who, after numerous attempts, finally managed to wrench the cap off.

From inside the bottle, red smoke lifted up in the air, filling the tent and suddenly all three men in the tent began to feel dizzy, falling unconscious to the sound of a broken scream:

_“Bilbo!”_

The smoke instantly stopped spreading, as though something was controlling it, and then, it all collected together in a huge smoke cloud before it returned inside the bottle, the cap closing itself.A pair of eyes twinkled outside of the tent. Finally, the curse of Smaug shall end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Second chapter, eh?! Look sharp because the third chapter will finally introduce Thorin, and Day and Night One! O-r maybe I will divide the chapters, not too sure yet :D


	3. Of whirlwinds and Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is offered a deal he can never refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I finally posted. This will probably be my last post in two to three weeks. Why? Well, I have to study for mid-terms, which will begin in this Sunday. Great, I know. What's even better? It's math. *groans and dies*

Chapter three: Deals:

When Bilbo realized what was happening, he was screaming. Or was he screaming before he realized what had happened? He honestly didn’t know; he was already screaming by the time his ears began to hear again.

Sam and Frodo were also screaming, clinging to each other and to the tails of his waistcoat. He certainly hoped his coat would not be ripped between the boys’ fingers. 

Suddenly, all too quickly, the whirlwind of colors and wind stopped, and Bilbo found himself landing on a firm, yet sift chair. Or rather, it felt like a chair but it was more like…

Bilbo turned his head and saw that yes, he was in the lap of another man. Twin yelps declared that the two boys had landed on the stone floor. From the corner of his, Bilbo could see the two boys sprawled over the floor, unconscious, with ripped parts of his waistcoat clutched into their hands. Well, perhaps hoping his waistcoat’s survive chances were high was a bit too stupid on his part. Bilbo owlishly blinked at the handsome face of the man whose lap he was sitting on.

He looked familiar – he even _felt_ familiar, as though he was someone Bilbo had known since he was a child. But wait! Bilbo did know this man.

The twenty eight years old man swallowed, and the black haired man’s eyes followed the way Bilbo’s neck moved, seemingly captivated by the sound.

Bilbo bit his lip when he realized _why_ the man was so familiar. How could he not, when he had spent his childhood reading about him and his teenage years fantasizing about finding someone just as handsome?

The sharp blue eyes, as sharp and cold as chipped ice, the black hair and the beard and all of those ornaments on his hair and beard. He briefly wondered how his mother had captured the man’s description so well in her stories, but that thought was instantly deleted from his mind.

He took a deep breath trying to calm his mind. Death. Just… No. A flashback from a time before, when he felt death was eminent came back.

And just like before, where he was trapped inside the metallic coffin of his brother’s car, Bilbo Baggins fainted.

On the lap of one spouse killing king Thorin II Oakenshield, who was regarding him with a cold look that was mixed with surprise and hope.

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Thorin Oakenshield used to be a good man. Before the sickness of the gold overtook him, he was a fair king. He knew that, and he knew he was sick, yet he found himself irresistibly chained to madness. No matter how loud he rattled against his chains, he never managed to free himself from the captivation of blood.

It disgusted him; how he was unable to control his own body and yet be aware of his actions. That’s why when Bilbo, the boy he adored as a child and loved as a man ran away from him in their wedding night, there was relief mixed in with anger and the binding feeling of betrayal.

And as he barked orders for his guards to take the two trembling boys and his way-ward fiancé to the cells, he felt the fogs grip on him lessen and that he could think clearly for a while.

For the first time, in a very, very long time Thorin pondered on his life, his people, the curse, but most of all, Bilbo.

Well, perhaps second chances _do_ exist, and this time there is no elder brothers who would dare try to stop his attempts to woo his man.

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Waking up in a cold, hard floor is as pleasant as having cockroach shoved into your face. What is worse is when you wake up in a cold, hard floor with a cockroach to greet you good morning.

Bilbo never liked insects –oh, sure he studied them, but they were dirty pests who brought nothing but a disgusting feeling down his spine. That’s why he had a pest control agency on speed dial. They come to make sure his house is pest-free monthly, and they get a nice cheque for their efforts and Bilbo can sleep peacefully.

So, back to the point: Bilbo hates insects, and cockroaches the most. So, he did what any rational man would do when faced with his fear. He screamed.

The cockroach was then squashed, and before he could gag or anything it was shoved away with the same foot that killed the cockroach. 

“Uncle, are you alright?” As Sam cleaned his shoe from the remnants of the insect, Frodo knelt down worriedly in front of his uncle. Bilbo wordlessly nodded as his nephew helped him sit up. His leg was throbbing painfully, chasing away the blissful numbness that he gained while sleeping. 

“Frodo, Sam, both of you have to get out here! We are in-“

“Erebor, we know.” Cut in Frodo, a serious look on his face. “We overheard a guard speaking about Erebor while you were asleep.”

“It’s so hard to believe that that ruins could be this magnificent city.” Said Sam, looking through the small window in the cell. It had bars, so there was no chance to escape from there, but he could see a city made of _gold._ However, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to admire the sight. 

The City turns to Gold when the king becomes ensnared in the clutches of the gold sickness. He had to get the boys out, at least.

“You don’t understand what Thorin would do to you, to us! You must get out of here-“

“If they do,” A voice that sent shivers down the spine of the three prisoners of Erebor broke into the conversation. “They will be hanged faster than you can say run.”

Surprised, all three of them raised their head to see the king lounging on the chair in front of their cell. Bilbo tried to stand up but hissed in pain, unable to contain the terrible feeling of his muscles clenching continuously and quickly. 

Sam wondered if that was a flash of concern in the king’s eyes, but before he could double check, the look was gone, replaced with a more determined face.

“What do you want?” Spat Frodo, shaking but placing himself firmly between his uncle and the man in front of the bars. Sam moved and stood in front of both Frodo and Bilbo protectively.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, surprised and perplexed. Rather than question them however, he began to speak: “I have an offer you can’t resist.” Declared Thorin confidently. “You wish to protect those children, and I wish to have you as my husband.”

An irresistible offer indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be Day One, featuring Ori/Dwalin


	4. The Scribe and The Genie

**Chapter Four:** **_Day One/Night One: The Scribe and The Genie_**

“Uncle I can’t believe you actually accepted.” 

Bilbo refused to give his nephew a smart reply. To be truthful, he himself couldn’t believe he agreed. Had he done the right thing? Would Thorin keep his promise? Or will he break it?

They were moved out of the cell into a far more luxurious room, well as luxurious as a room could be without all of the modern trinkets they were all used to. Bilbo’s itch for the internet has yet to be sated, though the books will have to do for now.

The book he was holding suddenly closed in his face. Frodo’s hand shook from its position on the book. Bilbo sighed. He knew his nephew didn’t like this – he never liked anything too dangerous that boy, and the fact that Bilbo agreed to marry a king who is well known to kill his wives and husbands after a day of marrying them definitely fell in the big pot called danger.

But there was no other choice. The lives of the children were more important, and besides, the wedding is only a few days away, and his continued livelihood meant he could be useful. Useful meant he could research on ways to go back home.

A Bilbo wordlessly hugged Frodo, the boy continued to cry, frustrated by his own inability to stop this situation. Losing both of his parents was tough, but to lose the uncle who’d always been like a brother to his would be harder. Especially if he was his only family left.

After all of the tears were dried, Bilbo gently tried to make his nephew at the very least look presentable, but the runny nose, puffy eyes and the occasional sniffle and tears that came out made that nearly impossible.

Samwise suddenly entered the room, the door banging against the wall and making a huge, _bang!_ , sound.

“You will not believe what I found!” After he took in the scene in front of him, where Frodo was being hugged by his uncle, he hesitated a bit, “…Am I interrupting something?”

If it was any other person that came through that door, Frodo would have scowled and growled at them, but Bilbo long suspected that Frodo carried a torch for his childhood friend. And if he understood Hamfast’s drunken grumblings correctly, so did Samwise.

“What did you find, Samwise?” Asked Bilbo kindly, and Sam simply shot Frodo a worried look before he answered – One of Bilbo’s hugest regrets would most likely be the fact he will not be there to see Sam and Frodo get together.

“The king loves stories –no, he even adores them! From what the kitchen staff said, he delayed the execution of one of his wives because she was an excellent storyteller!”

At this Frodo’s face perked, as though he had finally seen the light.

Bilbo couldn’t control his curiosity though – “What were you doing in the kitchen, though? They already delivered our food.”

Samwise grinned as though he knew something no one else did. “Well, I realized the kitchen staff is the same in every place.”

“How so?” This time, Frodo asked. Samwise’s grin widened. “They all gossip!”

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Bilbo swallowed. There was no way of knowing whether this will work or not, but he must give it his best. At the moment, he was dressed in one of the finest silks he had ever seen and he was standing in front of the door of Thorin’s meeting hall. There, the king will introduce him as his consort and work out the marriage contract. Or so he heard.

A servant bowed to him, and before Bilbo could protest and tell him that there was no need for such formalities, the bulkier man spoke: “They are ready to see you, Master Bilbo.”

Now he could not bring himself to speak for he felt that his voice was stuck in his throat. He wordlessly nodded and looked at the gold doors that was the only barrier between him and the murderous king.

Bilbo Baggins, the master of the Bag End Manor took a deep breath and counted until ten. It’s time to come face to face with his problem.

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

“Your majesty,” Bilbo began, but stopped when Thorin’s gaze met his own, though the other man’s eyes were filled with more intensity than his own. 

“Thorin is just fine.” He muttered, looking away from Bilbo. The shorter man could swear he saw a faint blush on the face of the other man, but he could not be sure under all of that hair. So rather than say anything that could make the king upset he began once again: “Thorin, I have heard of your love for stories, and I wish to tell some of my own to you.”

The king perked, but then sobered. “Why would you want to do that?” He stared at the writer as though he was going to either stab him or run away from him.

Bilbo swallowed. God damn Ereborians! Must they always think that there is a price tag on everything?!

“It is a…” Gift? Peace offering? Wait-! “dowry.”

The king’s eyebrows rose up until they met his hairline, but his lips were pulled in a smile that reeked of satisfaction. 

Thorin nodded. “Very well, proceed then.”

Bilbo nodded and took a sip of his cup before he began his story: “There was a once a band of three brothers: an adventurer, a teashop owner and a scribe. The scribe’s name was Ori and he was the youngest of the brothers. Though they were neither rich nor poor, the family was well off, but when the plague hit the land the family suddenly found itself without a single coin to its name and so, the second brother came into a conclusion….”

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

I shifted in my seat as I nibbled on the bread Dori placed on the table. We did not have much food left and I knew I should only eat enough to keep hunger away, but both Dori and Nori insisted that I eat more than my share, even though their work took more energy than mine.

That doesn’t mean I have to _eat_ what they put in front of me, though. I glanced at both of my brothers, who were engrossed into a conversation that luckily didn’t include me, so I quietly slipped the second bread my brothers put on my plate inside my pocket. This goes to my sash of saved food in case of emergencies.

Nori suddenly stood, a grin on his face and Dori looked defeated. My poor brother could never control Nori’s actions, at least not to the extent he preferred. 

“My dearest Dori and Ori! Do not be saddened by the lack of food and finery! For I believe I have found a ship that will take me to our fortune!”

“You mean your demise.” Muttered Dori unhappily, his tone sharp and disapproving. If it were pointed at me, I would wince at that but it isn’t so I simply marvel at Nori’s ability to ignore our older brother.

It was amazing.

Nori then jumped on the table, and before we could get over the shock of his movement, we found our arms filled with Nori. He hugged us tightly and fondly, sad and forlorn. It was strange, and I knew that whatever Nori planned to do it was dangerous. More dangerous than what he usually does anyhow.

Sometimes, it sucked being the youngest. 

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

Nori had gone on his voyage months ago and he still didn’t come back. Eventually, Dori had to leave as well, for both the money and the food had run short. My stash of food for emergency cases had depleted significantly between Dori and Nori.

And so, after putting on his coat, my eldest brother left me alone as well. And the waiting game began.

I had waited for days, and days slowly turned into weeks until it turned to months. My job as a scribe barely fed me and winter was coming. I knew I had to leave as well, for winter was harsh and ‘barely fed’ does not guarantee my life during winter.

So I put on my coat, and placed what was left of bread and cheese and apple in my pocket. I intended to journey to Erebor where I will hopefully get a better job. But between the Blue Mountains and the Lonely Mountain is a desert where there is no food and I intended to cross it.

As I journeyed under the unforgiving sun, heading toward Erebor, the cold air of the coming winter lessened its glare and it was somewhat pleasant. On my fourth day of journeying I found an oasis, and near the water was a foundation of a tree.

I sat on the remnants of the tree and pulled out one of the apples, chewing on it slowly and thoroughly so I would feel satisfied with one apple. After I finished, I tossed the core behind me carelessly and bent down to wash both my face and hands and then took a sip of it. As my hands were distracted by that I saw a genie, and I recognized him to be one for his large body, tattoos and the trail of green smoke that followed him. I took two steps back at the sight of his axe.

“I am Dwalin, and I will kill you for killing my brother!”

I took ahold of what little courage was within me. “But how could I hurt your brother? I don’t even know him – I never hurt anyone my entire life!”

The genie’s eyes crossed. “Have you not thrown the core of apple behind when you finished eating?”

I nodded my head. What does that have to do with anything? However, my reply seemed to have angered him further for his scowl deepened. “Then I say you have, for as you threw the apple core behind you my brother was passing by and it hit him in the eye and killed him!”

I could hardly believe my ears. The (rather hot) genie will take my life because his brother _might_ be dead? I knew enough about genies to know that apple cores do not kill them, but rather, stones. Still, the sight of his axe brought fear to my heart and I could not voice my opinion. The only thing I managed to do was to beg him to spare my life. I told him about my brothers, about how I had left without telling them or leaving a note and how saddened they would be by my death. He waited until I was finished, but his cold expression told me that he had remained untouched. He grasped me by my coat, lifting me up from the ground and said: “I will kill you for killing my brother!”

(\\__/)  
(='.'=)  
(")_(")

“That’s a wonderful story.” Commented one of the councilors, and Bilbo nodded. “And the rest is still more wonderful.” The writer replied, a smile tugging on his lips because of the compliment. Bilbo then turned to face the king, who was listening to him with a smile, pleasure on his face.

“And so, my king the sun is beginning to fall down to take its rest and I beg of you to allow me to tell the remaining half of the story tomorrow for I myself am tired.”

The king nodded his head and thought: _It’s okay to postpone the contract signing, after all, where will he go? I will simply wait until tomorrow, let him finish the story and then have him sign the contract._

Bilbo didn’t know how he managed to keep the satisfied grin off his face until he left the council room but he somehow managed it, thank god. As he entered his rooms, the grin blossomed into a full-out uncontrollable giggling.

He met Frodo and Sam’s gaze and said: “It worked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO VERY SORRY! I swear I had the first paragraph typed three months ago, but three months ago the marathon of constant exams had begun. I kid you not. The marathon finished on July 1st, and I am very tired.  
> It's nearly 12:00 am here, and I typed this in a day, so if you find a mistake tell me I will fix it, cause as usual I have no beta. Mostly because I don't understand HOW they work.
> 
> EDIT 5th of July 2013: Don't know how to change the way they met so I kept it the same, changed Dwalin's reasons for killing Ori, and pointed out how Ori recognized Dwalin as a genie.


End file.
